I discover my Bi-Sexuality during a random encounter at the park [M/M] | 2016

I was at a strange and lonesome crossroads of my life. I graduated college months earlier and was struggling so badly finding a job and a place to live that I moved back into my parents house. It had been almost seven years since I lived in that house and in that city. I'd transported my entire life to my college town and now had left behind all my friends, girlfriends and the comfort they bring.

In the midst of this loneliness I started to feel frustration. I hadn't had a girlfriend in a while. I didn't feel like I could get a girlfriend. I felt pathetic and fagile.

As my frustration mounted I started to have...fantasies. Different fantasies than I'd ever had before. I started looking at my naked body, taking pictures of views I'd never seen, touching myself in new ways . I wasn't sure what was going on with me. Was I angry; was it really only frustration – at women, at life, at all the conventions that I felt had failed me?

I started to have so much pent up energy that I would drag my brother out to the local park for exhaustive basketball games. I had a ritual at this often empty park where I would take off my shirt, put my belongings on a bench and claim the whole court for my brother and myself. I didn't take it easy, I worked. I worked until sweat was rolling off my face, beading on the hair on my chest, running down my legs. I worked off my excess energy until my muscles were quivering and I was dizzy. It was the most refreshing part of my life, a brief escape into strenuous activity.

It was an overcast summer day when something unusual and exciting happened. My brother and I were at the park as usual. My shirt was off, I was sweating. It felt phenomenal. Then, two men approached the court and started playing on one half. This happened occasionally, sometimes it resulted in pick-up games. I looked toward the other end of the court and saw a tall, darkly tanned man, a few years older than me. He saw me, we made eye contact, and as we did he pulled his own shirt off. He had the body of a man who works manual labor in the outdoors. Wiry muscles, a little patch of hair under his belly button. He had a tattoo on one of his forearms and his back. We kept eye contact. What did that mean? His brown eyes lingered on me. I asked my brother if he wanted to play a game with them and he said no. I was already exhausted myself. I took one look back at the man as he moved around the court, his exposed body already beginning to glean.

I thought about that look for the rest of the night. I got home from the park, took off my clothes and stood in front of the mirror. I rubbed sweat on my chest. I put my hand between my legs and cupped my ensemble. I started to get hard and I took my hand away and watched. Then I took a shower and went to bed.

Next day I had a thought out of the blue – I went to the park alone. It was empty, as usual. I started to perform my ritual when a truck pulled up. It was him, only him. Somehow I knew what was communicated the day before.

He walked up to my end of the court, we exchanged hellos. His name was Andrew, he said. I asked him if he wanted to play a game and he smiled and looked me in the eyes as he had done before and took his shirt off. He was taller than me, stouter than me. We spent a few minutes languidly shooting around each other, not saying much. Suddenly he performed an aggressive move. He put his back against me and started pushing toward the basket. I held my ground, my hand touched the small of his back. His shoulder dug into my chest and he hooked his arm around me, grabbing my hip. I answered his illegal move with my own, grabbing at the muscle on his forearm, preventing him from shooting and knocking him off balance. We laughed it off and the game got more aggressive, bringing our bodies together in bursts.

Then it happened. I drove hard to the rim but he kept step with me, my shoulder hit him, his arm wrapped around my body and we careened off the court. It was like a switch was flipped; like all the frustration and loneliness of the summer had been loosed and my mind had gone completely hazy. We were off the court up against the goal. One of my hands was on his upper arm, clenching his muscle, the other was on his chest then his abs, feeling his sweat, his warmth. He had a hold of my butt and hip. We locked eyes again, and I remember thinking, “is this where we kiss?”; but we didn’t and truthfully there was something between us. I didn’t want to kiss, I wanted to feel him. My hand went over his abs, onto his back and butt, and somewhere along the way we started moving toward the bench area.

My mouth touched his chest. I smelled him, then tasted his sweat . I kissed his chest again and again. His hand had slid under my shorts. He grabbed my ass and it utterly shocked me. No one had ever touched me like that, with so much force and dominance. The shock gave me one final moment of clarity. I knew what I was doing and the question was not why, but what next, and I knew.

We were at the bench. My hand had been assaulting his abs until I caressed downward, over the top of his shorts. I passed over the mound of his own ensemble and an electric came over me,and evidently him, as his grip tightened around my cheek. I passed over it again and noticed the warmth. I kissed his stomach and as I touched his inner thigh I looked up at him. His eyes were hardened, he was looking at my lips as my tongue came out onto his chest. I started to kneel and his hand slipped from my shorts. They were twisted and pulled almost halfway down. I noticed that I was almost exposed.

I knelled down and this time cupped him. It was hardening. He was breathing heavy and so was I. I kissed his stomach as I grabbed his shorts at his waist and pulled them down. His cock bounced as it was exposed, half-hard. He moaned for the first time.

I ran my fingers over it. I was reticent, I'd never touched another one before. But I knew I wanted it. I touched it more and looked at it, shaven, engorging to a size bigger and rounder than mine. I put my hand around it. Just like touching mine...but not. I pumped it, felt it hard in my hand, and a little trickle came out of it. I didn't have to think. My tongue swept up the member until I rolled it around the head and claimed the pre-cum. It was salty and altogether far better tasting than I would ever have thought.

This encouraged me. My tongue took a few more licks, while my other hand felt for his muscles, felt his buttocks clinch as I went around the head. Suddenly my tongue enveloped him and I moved my lips onto the head of his cock. Once again I had a sudden sense of awareness. I couldn't believe it, but I was sucking a cock, and I loved it. My hand was on the rest of it, feeling the thousand little impulse and twitches in him. I vacuumed with my mouth and pumped up and down. I let my tongue slide all over him. He moaned, his hands were on top of my head.

I pulled it out to see the first inch glistening with my spit. It was glorious and taboo and I wanted to swallow more of him, so I did. I took the cock in slowly, vacuuming up and down. I took more and more. I wasn’t sure how much I could do, and yet I found myself with all seven inches of him in my throat. I went up and went back down all the way several times. He moaned still.

My hand instinctively reached for his testicles. They were so smooth and soft, delicate compared to the rock hard cock. I put my mouth toward them and easily ran my tongue over the sack. He squirmed this time and I went further, licking faster and broader. The sack covered my my nose, my mouth. I could smell the sweet saline smell of hot skin, and I took the sack in my mouth and sucked the beautiful taste in.

With his cock in my hand, I remembered my own halfway down shorts. I pulled them over my own cock and held myself. I felt different, more involved with myself by being involved with this man. I started to stroke my penis and let his cock rub my face. Andrew let out a curse and affirmation that he like me touching myself. His cock slipped back into my mouth and I stroked in unison to my sucking. And then I thought for just a moment, about how I had just sucked a ballsack and loved it, how an attractive strangers cock was in my mouth right now and I let out a moan through my full mouth. I felt my toes curl and a pang come into my own cock as I cam into my hands and on the grass.

I couldn't stop sucking him. I was aware of my hand, covered in my own cum, coming up to hold his cock, of smelling myself. Then Andrew pulled away from my mouth. He started stroking himself and I was aware of a nervousness in my stomach. He aimed his cock toward the ground, but I wanted it and gently aimed it at my face. I was transfixed by his large, pink head. He started moaning, grunting this time and a stream of pearl colored cum shot from him, across my nose and under my eye. More followed, onto my check, across my lips, dripping down onto my chest. I smelled another mans cum, different and also similar to mine. I opened my mouth and let a strand fall in. It was bitter but somewhat sweet. I brought my own cum to my mouth and tasted it as well and I felt an urge to slip him into my mouth one last time.

The taste of our cum lingered in the back of my throat. I started to settle down from this sort of high, to realize that my face was half covered in sperm. I considered what I had just done. For a brief moment a small pang of regret and disappointment filled my head. Why would I do something so rash and dangerous? Would I have been happier to have a random encounter with a woman? I watched Andrew pull up his shorts and hand me my shirt. Is this something I should be ashamed of? I wiped my face off with my shirt, but the smell lingered. Brief flashes of the moment burst inside me, his body, his bouncing cock and balls, the head of his penis blasting into my face, at once dominant and vulnerable during orgasm. I called myself a slut, a cock whore, and I liked it. I was not ashamed or depressed. I was fulfilled for the first time in months, and if this was something inside me that needed to be explored then so be it. I smiled and Andrew helped me to my feet.

“That's not something I've ever done before,” we both agreed, trying to reassure a person we'd never met of our integrity. I thought about asking him why – what was it yesterday that made us do this; but I knew he couldn’t answer it any more than I could. It seemed to be something animal, something coming from our bodies that attracted us, that allowed him to see something in me that I oblivious too – that I longed for this, for someone like him to ignite me.

It was still passing between us. We stood close to each other at his truck, still feeling the heat between us. He told me about his job, as a Roofer for a prominent contractor. I told him about my situation, my loneliness and frustration. He opened his door and pulled out a pad and pen. He wrote down his phone number and I wrote mine and just that quickly we were separated.

I went home thinking this was the start of something very new and a little frightening. I hadn't even bothered to put my shirt on. The hair on my chest was matted with cum, and I stood looking in the mirror, taking my clothes off, as usual, and smiling.